Batman: Into Madness
by Jmel2
Summary: The story of the Joker from The Dark Knight and his transformation into the character from the Suicide Squad. Rated T currently, but will later most likely become M for violence, torture, and some language. Will also feature Batman, Nightwing, Harley Quinn, Robin, and others.
1. Chapter 1: The Lucky Man

Quickly, I'd like to give a warning to readers. This is going to be a dark story. Taking place mainly between the events of The Dark Knight and the Suicide Squad, this is going to attempt to reconcile the Joker that Ledger created with what we have seen of Jared Leto's. In this story, Suicide Squad along with the other new DC movies are in the same universe as the Nolan films. But in order to do that, Joker will have to change. Not his voice (Leto sounds scary similar to Ledger), but in actions. He's going to become a much crueler, much darker villain- although not to the lengths Frank Miller went for All-Star Batman.

Rated M for torture, violence, and occasional mention of sex and swearing. Also because you're going to be put into the mind of the Joker.

Now, without further ado...

Batman: Into Madness

Chapter 1: The Lucky Man

For the last ten years, I've been the happiest man alive. I'm Detective Harvey Bullock of the Gotham City Police Department. Or, at least I was. Really, that's the... No, no, no. That's not right. That's not where the story starts.

Let me try again. Ten years ago, Gotham's greatest threat was caught by the SWAT team that I was in command of. Although to be honest, the word "caught" isn't the best description of what occurred. He was trussed up like a Thanksgiving Day turkey, tied in a nice, neat bundle as a parting gift from Batman. Although his face was bloodied from the fight and he himself was hanging upside down, he was still laughing. Giggling manically. Like he knew some great secret that we didn't.

But we sent him off. They threw the son of a bitch into the deepest, darkest corner of Arkham Asylum. Only a handful of people ever saw him, and they were given strict orders not to talk with him. He's far smarter than the GCPD gave him credit for being, and talking with him could only end poorly.

And I didn't do too bad myself. As the SWAT team was from a specialized government group, they couldn't accept any part of the bounty offered for him. Technically, I shouldn't have either, but come on. This is Gotham.

Anyways, we threw him into a dark cell, locked the door and threw away the monster within. Gotham never truly forgot the reign of the Joker, but we buried it in our minds almost as deep as he was buried. Still, we would send someone from the GCPD to check on him every few months. Like I said, when we caught him, he acted like he knew some secret. One that we would never know. Or at least until today. Today marks the tenth anniversary of Joker's capture, and to celebrate it, the monster broke out of Arkham Aslyum. He's here now in fact, standing over my... No, I won't finish this.

Oh, why not Harv? I mean most of it is your own words. Taken right out of your diary. You know, the one with the ponies shooting glitter rainbows out of their asses on the covers.

You can kill me Joker, but you can't force me to read this.

Heh. I wasn't planning on killing you, not yet anyways. But if you insist...

There is a blood curdling scream, then a thump.

Uhg. Good help is so hard to find these days. And I lost the page he was on. Hey Harv, how far were? Oh, yeah, he can't answer. I would feel bad for the poor guy if he weren't... Dead.

Flipping of paper is heard.

Arkham, blah, blah. Blah, blah, Batman. Annnd, ah yes! Here we are. Ahem. Shoulder. He's going to kill me as soon as I finish reading this.

Did I really write that? Oops.

*Voice imitates Bullock. Poorly.* He wants to have a rematch with Batman. He says he knows about your 'fledgling bird' and that sometimes they need a good kick out of a tall tower. And just so that it's a fair match, he's going to give you five days to prepare. Best of luck may the best Joker win!

-voice recorder found by the body of Harvey Bullock inside his own home

So that's done. Comments and reviews are appreciated, and highly desired. Let me know what I can do to make this chapter better!


	2. Chapter 2: The Grinning Man

Chapter 2: The Grinning Man

AUTHOR'S NOTE: The chapters become longer (1000+ words) later on, so if you're someone who likes longer chapters, do not despair and quit at this point.

Two years earlier:

The green haired man in an orange jumpsuit sat back, and laced his pale hands behind his head. Leaning back, he prepared to enjoy watching the news for only the second time since he had been put into Arkham.

"This is Vicki Vale; welcome to the five o-clock news. We start tonight with video footage sent to us by the terrorist known only as Bane. The following is highly graphic- parents, if children are in the room, we highly suggest waiting until they leave before watching."

The image quality- while better than the camera Joker had used to show the false Batman's death years earlier- still wasn't very high. The sound of rushing water could be heard, and the area the film was taken in was dark. _Perhaps a sewer?_ Everything was still visible, but shadows covered all. Within seconds of the video starting, a face appeared on the screen. Wrapped in a metal mask, it gave the wearer the appearance of a sinister skull. Although the mask didn't move much, a powerful baritone voice ran out. "Gotham, behold the Batman. This savior of your city is no more."

The terrorist stepped to the side, revealing another masked man. This one only visible because his suit was even darker than the surrounding area. It was also clear that he was not capable of speaking. Lying on the floor in his own blood, he appeared dead except for the slightest raise of his chest ever so often. The camera zoomed in on his face. The bat-shaped cowl was broken in a cruel jagged line, and blood dropped slowly from the vigilante's mouth. Then the other man spoke again, his electronically modified voice rising and falling in an oddly unidentifiable accent. "And make no mistake, the Batman, he was your savior. You have been deceived for the last eight years. But more on that in a few days." Walking around the limp body of the caped crusader, Bane looked down at him for a while. When his gaze finally fell back on the camera, his eyes were filled with hatred. "For now, all you need to know is that the Bat is... broken."

The screen turned black for a brief second, then it went back to the blond haired woman and the panel of so-called experts quickly dragged in to discuss and analyze the video. Joker threw the remote at the concrete wall in a fit of anger. It shattered into pieces as he stood up. "That was my job! The mob paid me 'half' to break the Batman. This world, well, it just isn't very fair, is it Joe?" Looking at the guard on the couch next to him, he smiled. The uniform of the man was red-brown with drying blood, and his throat had been cut in a curve. "Still though, my world's more fair than yours. You only had what?... two days left before you were supposed to transfer to Blackgate. Now that's unlucky. Hehehe." Pacing through the guard station, he looked at each of the five murdered guards and the still dripping blood stains on the walls. "Look, I'm sorry, alright? I just had to get out of the uhh, hellhole I was in. And besides, you guys don't need all this room!" Cackling manically, he sank back down into the faux leather couch, and his mood changed instantly. While he couldn't actually frown due to the scars on the sides of his mouth, he was still visible upset. "This truly is a sad day for me. You know, Batsy, well, he made me. Did I ever tell you that, Joe? Guessing by your silence, that's a no. I've never told this to anyone, so you'll have to keep it a secret."

AUTHOR NOTE:

I'm updating this chapter, fleshing it out a bit more. I watched TDKR this weekend, and realized that there are some areas of the story that don't mesh 100% with the storyline, the main thing being that Bruce didn't spend as much time in The Pit as the movie implied.

Reviews are appreciated. Let me know how I can make this better!


	3. Chapter 3: the Hidden Man

Chapter 3: The Hidden Man

It had been two months since Bane had broken Basty. Two long, stinking, miserable months. In this whole time, no one had made any decent effort to find Joker. Not that he really wanted to be found. The anarchy he had always wanted Gotham to fall into had been established. Granted, not by his hand, but admittedly, Bane had done a darn good job.

He had to give the freak credit. The way he had started things out- destroying Batman, blowing up the football stadium when the mayor was there, and ruining Gordon's credibility- was ingenious. Plus, the man had style. A style that disturbed even the Joker himself, but style nonetheless.

Walking over to the massive white freezer, he shifted everything around, trying to figure out what he wanted for dinner. Shuffling past packages in white butcher paper marked as different cuts of meat, he finally found what he was hoping would still be there. He held the cold package like the Holy Grail. A ribeye steak.

While he had been forced to eat mush that made baby food look appealing, the (former) guards had feasted on fresh cuts of the finest foods. Setting the steak down, he ransacked the rest of the freezer, and picked out a pail of chocolate swirl ice cream, and a bag of corn. He smiled, his dinner was figured out.

In retrospect, well... he probably shouldn't have killed Steve. That man had the reputation of being the best chef the guards had in their ranks, and while Joker could cook, he wasn't very good. Still, poorly cooked food was better than no food. And he was regaining his strength, getting back some of the weight he had lost back in the cell, and he had snuck out once and gotten a decent makeup kit. Soon, the Joker would be back on the streets of Gotham. Humming to himself, he started preparing his dinner.

Then he paused for a second. Why go back into Gotham? Bane ruled the streets. His militia was all over, taking out those who the masked man would consider a threat, and Joker had no doubt that he would be in that category. Besides, everyone expected him to have emerged during the Arkham breakout, and assumed that he was just waiting for the prefect moment to strike. Even the few news reporters brave enough to do their job had mentioned their belief of this multiple times. So really, wouldn't his best joke be to stay here in Arkham, where no one would expect him to be and let the paranoia continue? He laughed viciously. Now that was funny.


	4. Chapter 4: The Stupid Man

Chapter 4: The Stupid Man

Author's Note: I want to apologize to the readers for playing a jerk move. I made it seem like there was an origin story planned out, but I didn't use the chapter for that story. The reason why is that in the comics, Joker never truly gets an origin story. Yes, there's the famous Alan Moore story about Ace Chemicals, but even that is written with hints that it may not be true included throughout. The New 52 Batman series also heavy hints that the Ace Chemicals story isn't true.

The whole point of The Joker is that he is a villain who is a true unknown- even the "world's greatest detective" (next to Sherlock Holmes) can't figure out his identity. And that's one of many things Heath Ledger's Joker did right. You're never able to figure out how he got those scars. This Joker I'm writing is very similar in this regard. Everything he says is a lie. Except when it's true.

The Joker was miserable! Miserable, miserable, miserable. Perhaps deciding to stay in the asylum wasn't the best decision he could have made. On the other hand, he had done dumber things before.

Jack flashed his signature grin back at his fiancée. The smile that had made her take a second look at the slightly awkward, very tall young man standing all alone at the prom and encouraged her to walk over to him. Or perhaps it was because of the abusive quarterback she had been with. Either way, this beautiful, tall blond started swaying towards Jack. He tried to open his mouth to say something, anything (quick) before she got away. But before he could even think of half of a sentence- much less a full one- she giggled at him. "Hi, I'm Hannah. And you look lonely. Why don't you dance with me?" And before he knew what was happening, Hannah had whisked him off his feet.

A few days after the dance, Hannah had sought out Jack, and confided that Zack, the quarterback, had been hitting her. She didn't know why exactly she was telling this man she only met once about her relationship- maybe because he was the first one to make her smile in months- but she told him everything. Jack listened, not saying a word. But she could see the cool anger in his brown eyes. This man was not one to cross, for crossing him would require a mind and strength far greater than most. But she also saw affection whenever he looked at her, and realized that Jack was incredibly loyal to those he cared about.

Once she was finished, she looked at him. His silky brown hair hung down in curls, and shifted slightly as he met her gaze. He smiled again, comforting her instantly. "Don't worry. I'll keep you safe. I promise."

Zack was found two weeks later in a local park by some children with his throwing arm broken in four places. While Hannah felt a bit guilty at first, knowing her story caused Jack to react in such a way, she quickly decided that an avenging angel of sorts would be a good thing to have. Later than night, Hannah and Jack did what they didn't have the courage (rather Jack didn't have the courage) to do the night of the prom.

"Aww, that's so cute. Soon you'll be a full fledged daddy". Bob ribbed Jack as they walked down the short cement driveway.

Jack smiled with pride, "Just another week. Granted, Hannah's been getting on my nerves with all of her cravings, but it's still worth it". He turned a sly eye to the long-haired blond next to him, "And besides, I'm still doing far better than you. You can't stay with the same woman for more than a month".

"And that's the way I want it to be. It's like gum". Bob blows a bubble from his mouth then pops it loudly to emphasis his point. "When I get tired of one flavor, I can head to the store and get myself a new type. You, my friend, are now stuck on the same flavor for the rest of your life".

"Yes, but I quite like this flavor. I mean, she's every man's dream, and she's with me. As soon as I have enough money for the wedding, she'll be mine for the rest of our lives".

Bob chuckled, then all humor was lost from his voice as his eyes turned dark. "Speaking of money, I was told about a umm... Business venture that will make us a ton of money. You in?"

Jack seemed startled by the quick change of topic and took a couple seconds to answer. "Is it anything illegal? You know I can't get in trouble with the police, Hannah's Dad hates me enough as is".

Bob thought for a second. "Yes, but the chances of getting caught are very small". Looking as his best friend and seeing his hesitance, he laid down his ace. "Look, the money's good enough that you'll be able to pay for your wedding with it and a rather nice honeymoon".

With that in mind, Jack said the words he would later come to regret. "Well, ahh... I guess".

Of all the dumb things Joker had said in his life, that was it. Hannah had always considered Bob as a no-gooder, and if he had listened to her, he wouldn't even be in Arkham.

Really, this was all Bob's fault. He started laughing. "Bob! Bob! Oh Bob! Get me out of here, please GET ME OUT!" Laughing to nothing but silence, he continued screaming his request.

AUTHOR'S NOTES round 2: Wheeew. That was exhausting. It's only midnight, and I'm seeing double. I'm literally exhausted, but need to finish this up. This was not an easy chapter to write. Usually everything comes to me all together, but this was like an onion. Each layer I got finished with just revealed another layer. Heck, I'll probably go back and make some changes once I've got the characters more fleshed out.

I also wanted to tell you all how incredibly humbled I am. I would have never believed how many people would want to hear the story I wanted to tell. Thank you all, and God bless!

Jmel2012


	5. Chapter 5: The Dark Man

Chapter 5: The Dark Man

It was late in the night when it came for him. The whoosh of fabric wings was all the warning Joker was given. Of course, the green-haired man had been waiting for this sound since Bane's announcement that Batman was broken, so he was ready. Sitting up in his bed, he grabbed the footlong knife on the bedside nightstand and flipped the light switch. Nothing. Joker smiled. It was him.

He turned on the lamp, which within half a second stopped working as a batarang flew through it, shattering the lightbulb. In that brief instant of illumination however, Joker had seen the dark armored figure. The sight of the long-eared cowl and batsymbol on the chest plate set a massive smile on his face. But there had seemed to be someone else there as well, dressed in dark green. A short figure, but an unknown. Still, pointy-ears was the more important one. Leaping at where he guessed the vigilante now was, he stabbed with his knife, meeting... air.

A force far stronger than expected knocked the knife out of his hand. Joker jumped back, laughing. "Huh. Your vacation did you well. You're much ahh stronger than you were before. Bane's not going to be too happy about that".

The punch came out of nowhere. He felt his arm pop out of his shoulder in a white, blinding pain. He howled for a moment, then remembering who he was, turned it into a laugh, although he wasn't able to completely mask his pain. "That wasn't very nice. I haven't seen you in ahh, years, Batsy. No flowers, balloons or anything. Not even a Christmas card. Can you imagine that, though? 'Christmas scowls from Batman and the kid standing beside him." He laughed at where he thought Bats was until a metal object hit him in the knees. Hard. He fell to the floor. "Was that you, kiddo? You deserve a gold star for that hit, orrrr would you prefer a lollipop?"

He heard the sound of something slicing through the air, then Bats spoke. "Stand down, Robin".

"But.." An adolescent voice rang out.

"I said stand down." Came the raspy reply. "You already broke his right leg. You attacked far too quickly, and in anger. Do that again, and you're done".

Joker giggled, "Robin? Cute. Batman and Robin. It works. Just don't make a movie out of it, ok? And to be honest, I think you should call him Target Practice instead." He threw his head back and laughed some more.

"Not for you, Jokey! You're going to be locked up for a loooong time." The boy in green crossed his arms and stared at Joker. He looked the kid in the eyes.

"Ohhhh, if Batsy weren't here, you'd kill me, wouldn't you? Hehe. You, well, you've got potential. Need a bit of work of course, but..."

The cape strutted forward and picked up Joker by his purple overcoat. Joker started to panic, wondering if he had perhaps gone too far. But he realized that he didn't really care. The more he pushed Batsy, the closer that man came to becoming a monster. He looked at the eyes in the cowl. "Do it. I dare you." Batman looked at Joker, fury in his eyes. "Break your rule. You. Know. You. Want. To." Whispering now to keep Batman enthralled, "You know, I know the truth. You've wanted to kill me from the moment we first met. I'm something truly... original. And you hate that. People, well they want to be me. He spoke rapidly at the end of the sentence, pulling Batman in more. "The more I do, the more the public needs me: or well, people like me. See, that's why Bane rose sooooo quickly. The public needed another villain. And when a creature like Bane comes to town, it attracts other uhh, vermin. Including the winged variety. By donning the cowl, you pull those who are crazier than you to Gotham. And those who are in Gotham and have already lost their minds? Weeeell, they're encouraged to dress up as a costumed lunatic because they see you on tv". He smiled again at Batman, seeing in his dark eyes that he had struck a chord. "So kill me. End the hero worship of me".

"And turn you into a martyr? I don't think so." Batman took Joker and walked calmly towards the cell where Joker had been forced to live for so long. Throwing the clown into the cell, he closed the door and attached something to it. "This will fuse the door and the doorframe together in about ... now. And since you murdered all the guards, Robin will be watching over you. Lucky for you, this prevents him from getting in".

Turning around, the dark knight stalked out of the room and off to his final confrontation with Bane.

AUTHOR NOTES:

Thanks so much to CandyHearts22 for giving me my first review. I'm glad that I'm able to provide a story you've been wanting to read, hope you enjoyed this chapter.

Also, I wanted to thank everyone who's been reading this story. 50 views today?! Thank you so much. As someone who's always loved writing, it brings me a lot of joy to know that what I'm doing is being enjoyed. It's also very humbling, to be honest. Please keep reading and reviewing, and I'll try to keep cranking out the chapters. Happy reading and God bless.


	6. Chapter 6: The New Man

Chapter 6: The New Man

Joker gazed at the boy on the opposing side of the bars. "You know, if I had a kid, he'd be just like you. Strong, brave, ruthless."

Target Practice just continued to pace back and forth, shooting the occasional glare from under the hood he wore- a green so dark that it was almost black. With the lights now working again, Joker could better see the kid and was admittedly impressed with his armor. It was mostly a dark forest green, with the occasional bands of dark red decorating the arms and legs. Blood-red boots embellished the look, and a gold R was stitched on the chest plate. Still, there was something familiar about it. Joker rolled his eyes up, thinking. "Ahhh, Bats gave you the last kid's suit. He left though. Works across the river now. Calls himself Blackwing, or something. Still, I'm always going to remember remember him by his name when he was wearing bright red, green, and yellow. Frogger. That kid, he ahhh, he could jump."

Realizing he was paying attention and had stopped his pacing, Target Practice started walking again. Joker looked at him with mock pity. "Stop trying to brood. You, well... you can't do it." Wheezing a laugh, he leaned back and forward, green hair waving.

"Shut up" the boy growled, or tried to. "Or else." He started to reach behind him, going for something between his armor and the cloak.

"Ohhh, is that what you hit me with? Show me, show me!" Joker bounced up and down on his bed clapping his hands excitedly like a young child receiving a present from his parents. Target Practice brought his hands in front of him and showed Joker a small silver rod. Joker looked at it with a frown on his face. "That's it?" At this, Target Practice moved his thumb, hitting what must have been a release. Immediately, a soft clacking filled the room as the rod quickly grew in length as piece after piece sprung from the cylinder's ends. Within two seconds, Target Practice was holding a nine foot long pole.

Joker giggled happily. This was the type of weapon he had expected the kid to be carrying, and did it ever go well with the overall look of him. "The bow staff? It works, kid. Your suit, well it could use a bit more yellow, but..." He clicked his tongue.

Target Practice said nothing, just flourished his weapon, and with a final twirl, hit the button by his thumb. As the staff spun around, each end collapsed inward when pointed upward. Within moments, the silver rod was again a footlong baton, and Target Practice put it back in its sheathe. This was then followed by the rapid pacing back and forth, back and forth. "You know, there should be a couple of packages of chicken in the freezer. If Batman comes back, he'll have the dinner of champions. If Bane beats him, then we get mourning chicken." The boy pretended to have not heard the Joker, and continued his walking.

Joker decided he had gotten bored of the child's antics, so he decided to have a bit of fun. Walking towards the front of his cell, he made sure to stay at least five feet away from the prison bars. Clicking at the youngster to get his attention, he waved. "Hey, me again. Quickie question? You wanna know how I got this scars?"

Growling at the criminal, the green armored vigilante took his bow staff out and leapt at the Joker. The blow fell short by inches, as Joker had intended. He laughed as if he was seeing the funniest thing in the world. "Missed me kiddo. Since I ahh never had a child, I'm going to keep you as MY kid. First lesson: never show your weapons to your enemies until you're using them. Takes away the element of surprise. If you hadn't shown me the bow staff, I would have come the the bars to talk, and I'd be unconscious or dead. lesson 2: A dead man stays dead. A broken man can heal and will if you give him time".

Grinning at the kid, he could tell he had struck a chord. Now it was his turn to pace. "Lesson 3: go to Cordo Maltise sometime. They make the best Hawaiian shirts in the world. Now for rules. Rule 1: except for Rule 2, there are no rules. Rule 2"

That was when the cell shook, and a loud noise was heard as something exploded. Target Practice ran to the tv and turned it on.

The shot showed Gotham Bay as enormous waves rushed towards the camera. A female voice came in and the camera panned to a dark haired beauty. "Again, it appears as if the Batman took the bomb Bane had and flew it into the ocean where it exploded. There is no sign of Batman's aircraft at this time, and while I pray for the the safety of the man behind the mask, I am very doubtful of his survival".

Joker leaned back and laughed so hard his lungs hurt.


	7. Chapter 7: The Loving Man

Chapter 7: The Loving Man

AUTHOR'S NOTE: first, thanks for all the support, people. I'm really blessed with such an amazing audience. Second, just wanted to address something that I'm not sure whether anyone noticed, but still want to mention. Yes, this is the second Robin, Jason Todd. He has that violent side to him, but I admittedly wanted to throw in some of the cool aspects of the other Robins such as Dick Grayson's humor (not on the same par, of course) and Tim Drake's bow staff, because it's badass. And any Nightwing fans, don't worry, he'll be popping in soon! Anyways, here's Chapter 7: The Loving Man.

Target Practice stared at the tv screen in shock as the details kept coming in. There was no sign so far that Batsy had lived. Joker looked at the boy, feeling almost pity for him. It was clear that Bats had been training him for a while and that the two were had been close. And to be honest, he knew exactly how TP felt right now. He thought back to the day his world had flipped around, and the night he lost his sanity.

Jack could not stop smiling. After tonight, he would never again have to worry about money. Bob hadn't been kidding, in fact he had been understating when he said it would be enough to pay for the wedding and honeymoon. The amount his new employers had offered was jaw dropping. Half a million dollars to steal one small sample of a formula from a chemical company.

Since both he and Bob worked for a security company (Bob was really good at hiding his often illegal pastimes), their new unmet employer had figured they were the perfect people for the heist.

So each night for the previous four days, Jack had attempted to balance being the perfect supportive fiancée, and preparing for the heist by war gaming every possible scenario. Unfortunately, the balancing act hadn't gone well, and it was Hannah who suffered for it, and right when she needed Jack most.

Jack ran his fingers through his dark brown hair. It felt weird. Taking every precaution, Jack had even gone so far as to cut his hair down to a half inch in order to blend in more as a security guard. Yes, that was his everyday job, but this was a high-profile company he would be robbing, and not a place like a Mom and Pop store.

He looked at his watch. 8:40. Quickly reviewing the blueprints one last time to make sure he had the whole layout memorized, he put the paper along with every other piece of evidence of his involvement in the robbery into the fireplace. Lighting a match, he watched as it all went into flames and rapidly turned to ash.

When this was finished. He went into the bedroom. Kissing his bride-to-be, he stroked her long hair. He then grabbed her hand, and spoke the lie he had practiced numerous times in the past few days. "Honey, work called. A place named Ace Chemicals needs some extra security. They're offering a lot of money to whoever can come, and Bob wants me along".

She looked up a him with a frown. "Please don't go. I've got a bad feeling about it. And I need you here".

Jack smiled at the beautiful woman. "They're offering so much for helping tonight that I can give you the wedding you've always dreamed about".

She looked at him again, the frown replaced by a soft smile. "Always thinking about me." She leaned forward and kissed him tenderly. "That's why I love you. And maybe the bad feeling's just because Bob's involved". She thought for a moment. "Ok, go. But if my water breaks and you miss Jason's birth, I will kill you." He tried to sound serious, but started laughing before she could even finish the sentence.

He smiled at her, "Baby, if I miss that, I'll kill myself for you." His phone buzzed and he flipped it open. 'GET YOUR DICK OUT OF YOUR LADY AND YOUR ASS OUTSIDE'. He laughed, then looked at Hannah. "That was Bob. Got to go. I love you, beautiful".

He started to turn around, but Hannah asked him to wait. He looked back to see her until the knot on the red bandana acting as a hairband. She quickly knotted it to a belt loop on his dress pants. "A favor. For my knight in shining armor. Love you".

Jack walked out of the house and spotted a black van parked on the side of the street, near his house. As he got close, the passenger door slid open and he jumped in. Bob and a snarky comment were waiting, "Glad to see Hannah allowed you outside the house without a leash."

He gestured to the lanky man with glasses and a checkered shirt next to him. "This is Jacob. He'll be hacking the cameras at Ace. Our unnamed employers left a letter of approval, as much as that means." He half-flung, half-passed the letter to Jack, then noticed the red bandana hanging from the black pants as the van started to move. "Nope, take that crap off." Jack refused. Bob turned to the tech guy, sighing. "This is why I don't have a steady woman. He's turned into a sappy, pathetic little girl".

Jacob laughed. "I don't have a steady woman because I can't get one. I'll trade any day with him". He looked back down at the bulky laptop. "Ok, the program I've got should give you 15 minutes of safety. It goes through the video feed and erases you guys from every frame it can find. Look directly at the first camera you can find walking in, and I'll have the program search for you".

Bob looked impressed. Jack was less so. "You said 15 minutes. This is a big place. We may not be able to get there that fast. Can you make it last longer?"

Jacob sighed. "This program is massive. I spent five years of my life making it. When laptops get bigger memories, I can keep it running for hours. Right now though, I built the best laptop money can get, and the max time is unfortunately 15 minutes".

"Damn it". Jack turned to Bob. "You know how difficult this is going to be?"

Bob replied with a grin, "that's why they're paying us the big bucks. If you don't want to, you can always chicken out".

"No he can't," the driver yelled from up front "we're five minutes away. At this point, if you're in this can, you're IN".

The rest of the van fell silent, suddenly realizing the enormity of the task at hand. The weight of the quiet crushed Jack, and he struggled to rise from under it. "Look, we can do this. We keep our heads down, and our eyes straight forward. No one knows that this is happening, so we will be fine. We find the sample from R&D, and we get the hell out. Simple".

The driver applauded. "Well spoken, you should have been a politician. And you should all change, we're getting close to the stopping point".

Jack and Bob quickly got into Ace Chemical security guard uniforms as the can slowed. "If we drop you off any closer, it will look suspicious".

Jacob looked up from his screen. "Your photo IDs on the shirts will allow you access to all sections of the factory. Good luck guys". He smiled at them.

The van came to a stop finally, and Jack opened the door. From inside the van, the only thing he could see was the massive twisting of pipes and shapes that was Ace Chemicals. Countless chimneys rose into the sky, creating an imposing figure. Jack gulped a bit, then stepped out of the van with Bob following.

After walking for around ten minutes, they finally got to the back entrance where the security guards entered. Bob dialed a number of his phone. After a few rings, he spoke. "Yep. Ok, bye". He swiped his badge on the pad and with a beep from the pad and a click from the door, the door unlocked. Bob and Jack walked into the factory.

The heist of Ace Chemicals had begun.


	8. Chapter 8: The Fall-Man

Chapter 8: The Fall-Man

AUTHOR NOTE: I had to break the last chapter up. If I hadn't, it would have been either too long compared to the other chapters, or I would have made the part you're about to read too short. I couldn't afford that. This is the quintessential Joker origin story. I realize I can't do justice to what Alan Moore created in The Killing Joke, but I hope it's original enough to be enjoyed by those who have read this fantastic comic.

Second, everything has come together. I had not been sure exactly how to get Ledgers' Joker into Leto's, but while talking with a coworker, it all came together.

Also, thanks to CandyHearts for the reviews you've given so far. A reader like you is the reason a writer continues their work, and I wanted to let you know how much I appreciate it. And to everyone who's been reading my work, thanks. God bless, and happy reading!

The two men who didn't belong walked into the building where they would both be changed forever. This was a place of science and mystery- where ideas formed in the middle of the night were turned into two letter words and then equations. Equations that became chemicals, bonded onto each other in seemingly endless patterns. No where was this more apparent than the large vats in the middle of the factory part of the building, where dozens of solutions bubbled and swayed. Blues, greens, reds, and numerous other colors were visible if you only looked down from the metal balconies that ran above these bins.

Jack was trying to not do this. This was probably the most dangerous part of the job. Simply tripping could result in falling into a vat. Some (he was sure) were harmless. Others, not so much. Poisonous, acidic, or harmless, he wasn't knowledgable enough to know what was what. So he stared straight forward and continued walking rapidly. Not to quickly, but fast enough to make it look as if he belonged in this place.

Quickly glancing over, he saw that Bob was doing the exact same thing. Glancing at his timer, he saw that four of their precious fifteen minutes had already vanished. They were nearly to the R&D area of the building, which was where the formula they had been paid to steal was supposed to be located. Just another minute or less of walking, and they would be there.

They reached the R&D department without problem, and swiped their badges. The door unlocked and swung open to reveal... tubes. Shelves and shelves of test tubes. There had to be hundreds of different chemicals. Jack swore to himself, and Bob strung out a long curse under his breath. Jack looked at Bob, impressed.

"Ok, we can do this. We just need to split up and search for AC-346-JR." Jack spoke to Bob with much more confidence than what he actually felt.

He and Bob parted ways, and Jack started walking down one of the rows on the left. It quickly became apparent that he was in the wrong section, as all of the tubes were labeled in the four hundreds. He checked the next row to the right, but it was in the five hundreds. He shook his head and moved on to the next row. This time he went all the way down, and still he found nothing. Checking his timer, he realized they only had seven minutes left, and it would take nearly five to get out of the facility.

He began to search frantically, finding the three hundreds at last. 310...320...330...340...341...342...344...347... Wait, where was 346? He scanned the rows again, and still could not find any sign of 346. He looked at his watch- six minutes and thirty seconds.

Thinking for a moment, he had an idea. "Bob, did you see any work stations?"

From the rows of tubes, Bob's voice rang out. "Yeah, at the back, near the right side".

Jack sprinted to the end of the row he was in, and spotted the area filled with chemistry tools. It looked like something straight out of the laboratory of a mad genius in a movie. Spying a small test tube at the front of the station, he looked at the name. AC-346-JR! "Bob, I found it, but we need to go now"!

Jack tossed the formula into his pants pocket. He checked his watch while running. They had just shy of six minutes to escape. This was manageable. It wasn't going to be easy, but it would be possible.

Just as he and Bob opened the doors leading out from the R&D department, he heard a voice in his ear. It was Jacob, and he did not sound happy. "Uh, guys. Bit of a problem. The program seems to be overloading. I can't promise that it will continue to work for another full minute, much less nearly six".

Jack came to a dead stop. This wasn't bad, this was a full-blown disaster. He saw that Bob had stopped as well, and laughed in fear. Then he realized that he- at least- had something that could save his butt. Grabbing the black pocketknife he always had with him, he took the bandana that Hannah had given him and quickly cut two short slashes in it. Shoving the top of the red fabric into the brim of the hat his employers had provided, Jack grinned.

He heard a bit of thumping, and realized that Bob had started continuing forward. Jack took off as well, following as best he could without full visibility. Remembering the blueprint he had been studying, he realized he and Jack were now starting journey above the vats of chemicals. Jack laughed, voice full of relief. He had just remembered a shortcut. Everything was going to work out fine.

And that's when HE arrived. The black monster. Gliding down from the ceiling on leather wings, the Batman landed on the metal ramp. Jack gasped. Batman was a myth. Something gangsters told each other about as a joke. A story parents would tell their kids to show that Gotham wasn't as bad of a place as it used to be. Not flesh and bones. Not leather and Kevlar.

But sure enough, there the black armored man stood, looking like some strange medieval knight. He grabbed something from his belt, and Jack turned his head an closed his eyes, thinking it was a flash grenade or something similar. Instead, he felt a burning sensation on the corner of his mouth. He tried to scream in pain, but his mouth wouldn't work right. A coppery tasting liquid started to fill his mouth, and he forced himself to spit it out, then realized that the side of his mouth was bleeding wildly, and dripping over the metal grating he was standing on.

And then realizing he still had his eyes closed, he demanded his brain to force them open. While his first desire was to wipe the blood from the corner of his mouth, he had to instead immediately take a step backward as Bob came backtracking towards him, his attention focused on the warrior in front of him. Battling the winged demonic-seeming man, Bob stepped into the surprisingly large mess of blood Jack had spit out and started to slip, then bumped into Jack. Jack felt himself falling towards the railing, and looked down. A green vat of some sort of acid lay beneath him, bubbling viciously.

Jack knew that this stuff was probably deadly, and he tried to force himself to stop falling towards it. He couldn't. As he began to lean over the edge, something pushed him away from it. He saw Bob's arm move towards the railing, and he prayed that his friend would catch it. He watched in horror as Bob's hand barely missed the metal and Batman unleashed a blow that sent the man falling into the chemical pool. Both Batman and Jack leaned over the edge, watching in shock as Bob landed with a plop in the green liquid and quickly sank. As Jack watched, Bob resurfaced, but changed. His brown hair had suddenly turned green, and his Caucasian skin had taken on a whole new meaning of the word 'white' as it was like snow. Bob seemed fine, then screamed, shockingly red lips curled in pain. Jack could see Bob's skin begin to bubble and dissolve and he forced himself to turn away, remembering who the dark figure also watching was. And Jack ran.

Next thing he knew, he was in the black van next to Jacob. He had no idea how he had gotten there and not been captured or killed by Batman. But he had survived. And Bob had not. Grabbing Jacob by his flannel shirt, he shoved him against the side of the van. "What happened? You promised us you could give us fifteen minutes".

Jacob looked scared. "I don't know. I'd tested the program countless times, and it's always right around fifteen minutes. I don't know what happened, I swear".

Jack needed to make sure, despite that Jacob seemed to be telling the truth. He threw the man to the floor violently, and put his foot on the spine of the hacker. "Why did Batman show up almost immediately afterward the program started glitching?"

"I don't know. But I want to." He attempted to stand up, and Jack let him, recognizing that Jacob was being completely honest. "Look, I'll tell you everything I know about the people who employed us. This type of glitch wouldn't happen unless someone intentionally tampered with the program. I set far too many redundancies for that to happen. No one screws with my programming". His voice was shaken, but by the end there was clearly rage in his voice. Suddenly, his voice turned soft. "And Jack, I'm sorry about Bob".

Jack let go of Jacob, crumpled to the floor, and cried.


	9. Chapter 9: The Flipping Man

Chapter 9: The Flipping Man

For some time, TP visited Joker's cell every night. He wouldn't say a thing, just pace back and forth, staring for hours. He watched Joker as if he were some animal to be studied and observed. He would watch Joker, noting every single movement that the man made, probably storing them all in his memory.

To be completely honest, it unsettled Joker. The child probably knew more about him than anyone- even Batsy himself. Joker therefore only talked in taunts, and this surprisingly had no effect on the kid. He did his best to fake his movements in ways that would cause problems for TP if they ever did have to fight. But he couldn't constantly keep the act going. He knew that there were times that he slipped, and more troublesome was the fact that he preferred some of the new movements he was using. He enjoyed the large strut he would walk with when the kid was there- a sort of proud swagger that caused his arms to swing slightly. Combining that with literally lifting his chin high, he knew he had found a new style that made him appear even more confident and dangerous. Perhaps one day he would rebrand and actually use this walk.

But for now, this was just to fake TP out. Granted, he was pretty sure that the kid knew that a lot of the movements he was using were an act; Joker could tell that there was a fierce intelligence behind those blue eyes. He had actually started to take a liking to the kid, and that scared him.

So when TP didn't show up for two days, Joker was glad. However, after a week, Joker started to feel a sensation that he could only describe as worry. After another day, he started to want to ask the doctors who came down to examine him in his cell if TP was ok. Two nights later, he heard the whisper of fabric as he lay on his cot, trying to fall asleep. He instantly bolted upright and tried to make out anything in the darkness. He couldn't see a thing, though.

"TP, is that you?"

An adult male voice answered him. "Nope, it's me. Happy to see me?"

Joker snarled in disappointment and anger- he recognized the voice, and really didn't look forward to spending time with its owner. "I can't see you, Frogger. Turn on the damn light".

He heard a click, and closed his eyes as brilliant white light streamed towards his eyes. "The cell lights, not your ahh weaponized lights, you jackass".

"Say please." The male voice chuckled softly as he turned off the light on his suit. Then, knowing that Joker would never humble himself enough to be polite, he turned on the overhead lights.

Joker opened his eyes and blinked a couple of times. Then he rubbed his eyes to make sure he wasn't seeing things. He clearly remembered the decently tall teenager that had dressed in bright red, green, and yellow. There was no way that this man standing in front of him was the same person.

First off, he was tall. Really tall. Frogger had been of a good height, but had been maybe up to Batsy's armpit. Not bad for a kid probably around 14 or so, but this man was way taller than Joker had expected him to be. His hair was longer than it used to, around six inches long, and not only did it work, but looked GOOD. The pimples and small zits that had been occasionally on Frogger's face had all disappeared, leaving a face that even Joker was jealous of. The man probably had women swooning on him constantly (although rumor had it that he and some up-and-coming redhead crime fighter were hooking up).

But the biggest surprise was the new costume. When he heard that Frogger had gone off on his own, he had imagined that the young man would have just recolored his armor and called it a day. That obviously wasn't the case as TP was wearing that armor. It looked like whoever created Batman's gear had put their mind to arming Frogger.

And not only had they managed to give him a proper outfit, he looked as good if not better than Batman. Part of it was that he wasn't dressed as an animal or creature- just as a man who wanted to take on those who poisoned his city with criminal activity. But the suit also had proper style. Plates of armor blacker than night itself covered all of his body, arms, and legs. That portion of the suit was very similar to Batman's. But that's where the similarities ended. Instead of a cowl that masked his whole face except for his eyes and mouth, only a simple black masquerade mask covered the area around his eyes. Nothing else covered his face, but Joker still couldn't piece together who was behind the mask.

The most impressive part about the outfit though, was the chest. Where Bats had a black, nearly invisible batsymbol, Frogger had a gracefully curved bird with outstretched wings as his symbol. The wings stretched to his shoulders, and had three notches on the underside of each side giving the appearance of feathers. The crest was cyan, and was clearly visible against the black of the rest of the suit.

Frogger smiled at the shocked expression on Joker's face and laughed. "Looks good, doesn't it?" He asked in a lighthearted tone.

Joker recovered and spat at him. Frogger gracefully stepsided the missile. 'Damn, as quick as ever.' He thought. "I hate it." He said, lying through his teeth.

Frogger looked at him and shook his head. "You know you want the suit. It's even more high-tech than what Batman had".

"And look at just hooow well that protected him. If I remember correctly, he's in ahhh... pieces right now." Joker grinned, laughing at the look of anger that fleetingly crossed Frogger's face.

"So, how's the old cell?"

"Terrible. How's Bludhaven?"

"Looking better than this place, now that I'm protecting it".

"What am I supposed to call you now? Blackwing or something..."

The man smiled, "Nightwing. Much better than Robin, don't you think?"

Joker laughed. "Oooh. They did call you Robin. I'm always going to remember you as... Frogger, though".

Frogger frowned slightly. Then opened his mouth and closed it, considering what he was about to say. Then he spoke. "I know Robin's been visiting you. And I think the company's good for both of you. But if you ever hurt him, I will wrap these in plastic," he took out two foot and a half long metal rods, "and stick then where the sun don't shine".

In the morning, TP was there.


	10. Chapter 10: The Tally Man

Chapter 10: The Tally Man

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Damn, this chapter's been difficult to write. I've had three different rewrites, and hopefully this one will work out well. By the way, did I do something wrong with Chapter 9? I didn't get a ton of views on that chapter.

Victor Zsasz hummed as he worked. A nameless, cheerful song, notes twisting as quickly as his mind, yet still hauntingly beautiful. A rustling sound whispered just above the tune he was composing, and hearing it, he looked up, clutching his tool tightly in his hand. He scanned the rooftops with a careful, practiced eye. He couldn't see anything amiss. 'Typical.' This was the game that the Batman had played, and it was no surprise to him that his successor would do the same. He had heard rumors about Nightwing taking over as the vigilante in Gotham, and he was eager to test his prowess against the baton wielding man.

"I heeear you. Come out, come out, and face me." Nothing. No sounds of cape fluttering or even any movement on the rooftops. "Coward! Stop hiding in the shadows. Or are you too afraid?"

A voice rang out, eager and excited. "You're nothing Zsasz. Batman put you into Arkham, what? Three times? Or was it four? I forget." Strangely, the voice seemed to not be coming from the visible skyline, but somewhere lower. Zsasz spun his head around, long curly black hair whipping around. Still nothing, but he did hear another flutter of a cape coming from an apartment building cloaked in shadow. In a flash, he drew a dagger from his bandolier with his left hand and approximated where the vigilante should be. Speedily drawing his arm back, he threw it. A clang was heard as the weapon hit the wall and fell to the street. "Not even close" came the laugh from somewhere else.

Zsasz drew three knives and threw them in a horizontal strike. The deadly blades flashed as the moonlight hit them, and Zsasz smiled at the beauty of it. Again, all three missed. Laughter rang out loudly, and it seemed to be closer to him. Growling, Zsasz snatched five blades from the strap, and launched them into the air, delaying each one a little bit. He heard the clang as they hit walls yet again. '1..2..3..4…. wait, where is the last one?' Smiling widely, Zsasz realized that the final blade must have struck the hero. So he listened. Carefully. Ever, very carefully.

Then he heard it. _Drip, drip._ He spun around, turning towards the sound. He sneered at where the noise was coming from. "Not so noisy now, are ya?" He paused for a second. "On second thought, now that you've got that blood dripping from you, you're even more noisy." He paused again, then added one last jab while drawing another knife. "Much easier to track".

He threw the knife at the dripping sound. As soon as it left his hand, he went to his bandolier and grabbed another, ready to finish this amateur off. This time though, he heard a whirling, and a metallic clang. "You're not getting rid of me that easily".

A dark shadow leaped at him. He threw knife after knife, as quickly as he could. Each and every one was blocked by the pole the caped vigilante was weaving through the air in front of him. He noted that while Nightwing was supposed to be rather tall, this shadow was surprisingly short. Drawing another dagger from his… 'wait, where the hell was it? There was another one, right? I can't be out of throwing knives, can I? Well, crap.' He rapidly drew his last two knives from his belt. These were big, each well over a foot long, and beyond sharp. He had stolen them from a master weaponsmith in Tibet many years ago.

Quickly raising them, he blocked the incoming strike from the pole the cape wielded. Immediately, his attacker disconnected the staff, and came in from the left. Zsasz blocked this, and then lunged with his other arm. It ran into a metal wall as the wielder weaved a nearly impenetrable barrier. Zsasz took a step back, running his eyes over his new enemy. "Clearly, you're not Nightwing. Who are you?" He noticed that the knife that had hit the… teen? was lodged by his right shoulder. The young man would be favoring his left arm, no question about that. And that he could use. As soon as the teenager answered his question. He wanted to know who he was battling.

"Robin." Then the teen lunged at the serial killer. Zsasz backed up, ready to pull a feint and then rush at Robin's right side. But he forgot about what he had been working on before being distracted. He tripped on the young woman's body, and fell on her.

In the blind of an eye, Robin was on him. Zsasz blocked the first couple of blows, but then the staff came in from all angles, seemingly all at once and Zsasz was overwhelmed. And these were strong blows. There was anger behind each and every hit, and he felt it. His ribs burned, then there was a sharp crack as two were broken. A couple others quickly followed, and Zsasz screamed in pain, unable to hold it in. Then the young man in green started in on his legs, unleashing blow after blow on him. And worst of all, he was laughing. Zsasz felt multiple bones in his legs snap, and pain more excruciating than anything he had ever experienced. Even more painful than the pain his father had given him. Then suddenly, it stopped.

He heard the young voice, right in front of his face. "You're not going back to Arkham. Batman made a mistake with you. I'm putting you down like the sick animal you are." Zsasz- with great effort- opened his eyes and saw Robin pulling the throwing knife out of his shoulder with a grunt. As the knife slid out of him, he gasped from the pain, but drove through it as he lifted the weapon high over his head. Robin looked down at the Indonesian man lying under him, and made eye contact.

Later, Zsasz would consider this to be what saved his life, but at the time, it was one of the scariest sights he had even witnessed. Robin's eyes were cold and cruel, devoid of anything but hatred. The teen gave out a yell of triumph as he brought the blade down at Zsasz's heart. A metallic noise rang out as the dagger came downwards, and the knife lodged in Zsasz's left shoulder. Then another masked man was standing over him, this one with a blue object on his chest. Realizing that Nightwing had saved him, he let the darkness take him and slipped into unconsciousness.

The cave was unlike any other. Bright, massive and filled with balconies, computers, and other strange items, this was the lair of the Batman. Although he was presumed dead, there were still voices echoing through the cavern walls. "That was irresponsible and stupid, Jason. Bruce told you not to let your anger get the best of you! The only reason the police allow us to do this is because we don't kill the criminals we go after! We start doing that, not only are we no better than people like Zsasz, we will be just as hunted." Nightwing towered over Robin, clearly furious.

Jason stayed quiet, waiting for more. And sure enough, more came. "While you were gone, I met with Warden Zabot, and got permission for you to study Joker again. Then I went down and talked with that piece of filth. After this, though, I'm not sure I want you being anywhere near that man. If you were to get angry and kill an imprisoned man, even one so sick as the Joker, the media would crucify us, and Gordon would have no choice other than to try to take us down".

Jason looked crestfallen. "Give me the chance. I was beginning to figure him out when the warden banned me from watching him." He pleaded passionately for a minute or two, but he couldn't see any change in Dick's stern expression. Realizing he had run out of arguments to make, he stopped.

Dick stood there for a while, thinking. Finally he looked as Jason. "Fine. Go and study him. When he breaks out, we will need to know everything we can about him. Find out everything you can. Make him talk, but you need to realize that most of what he says will be a lie".

Jason pumped his fist into the air, and grinned. "Don't worry, I can figure it out".


	11. Chapter 11: The Changing Man

Chapter 11: The Changing Man

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Within ten minutes of posting chapter 10, I already had three or four views. Thank you all so much for your support on this endeavor. Hopefully, the majority of the chapters won't take four weeks to write, it should be easier now that chapter 10 is out of the way. Anyways, here's Chapter 11.

When Joker woke up the next day, TP was there waiting for him. He looked exhausted. There were dark bags under his eyes and his eyes themselves were dull. His green armor had a hole in the left breastplate, and Joker laughed. "Uhhh, late night?"

"Yeah," TP sighed. "I had to…" he stopped, realizing that he was talking to the clown. He had never done this before. He had always just sat there, watching Joker. TP blinked, then sighed. He moved his cloak to his side and then basically sank to the floor. His mouth opened, then closed. For well over a minute, the teen simply sat there, thinking. Joker waited patiently for a while, then frowned.

"Oh, come on, kiddo. We were getting along so well. Look, there's ahhh something I've been wanting to know. How did Batsy find you?"

TP laughed bitterly, and looked up at the freak in the cage. "Wouldn't you just love to know that." Joker bobbed his head up and down. TP sighed, and then caved. "Fine. I had heard a rumor that there was something valuable in a shipping container in Muigani Island. Valuable enough to feed all of us for at least a year."

Joker interrupted. "All of us?"

"I was part of a gang of orphans. Well, gang isn't the right word. We stayed away from the fights, just foraged for food and defended each other when we needed to. Other than that, we didn't get involved in those battles." Jason laughed. "There was this girl, Samantha. She was the funniest person I've ever met. And pretty too. We had… Anyways, I went to the place on Muigani. Small facility, but sure enough, there was a shipping container in it. Sitting inside of that was a motorcycle. Ohh, was it pretty. Black and sleek, I've never seen anything like it. I couldn't take the thing itself, so I managed to get the tires off, and planned to return for the rest later. I turn around," TP is laughing, "there he was. Batman. And he looked pissed. I dropped the tires and ran like hell, pretty sure I had seen a ghost".

Joker laughed as if this was the funniest statement he had ever heard. "Wai, ha, haha, wait. Let me hehehe guess the rest. He uhh followed you. Tracked you down and was going to beat you up. But ahhh, he noticed you were young, and took pity on you".

TP nodded. "Yeah. He took me to his headquarters and trained me. Gave me everything I needed." Tp laughed, "He even let me keep the tires. Said I should keep them as a souvenir".

Joker frowned, or at least tried to. The scars prevented him from fully doing so, but he clearly was trying. "I ahh blew up his Batmobile, and he didn't let me keep _that_. Shame, that thing looked like sooo much fun to drive. Well at least it did before I hit it with a bazooka". He laughed violently at his joke, jaw opening so wide it seemed like it would be painful.

TP looked at him oddly, curious. Joker had slipped. He had told him about something that was 100% true. He could use the way Joker had been talking and acting as a validity test for future statements. Quickly covering up his look, he prayed that Joker either hadn't noticed, or would assume that it meant something else.

Joker ended up going with the second, "That car was that strong" he sneered. "Wait. One question, TP. How long was Batsy in Gotham? Even Bats couldn't have trained you in a day". He flicked his head to the side, clicking his tongue.

TP glared at him for a moment, irritation shining through his eyes. "Stop calling me TP. Call me Robin". He stood up, black cape whispering as it brushed across the floor. "He had been back for nearly three months before taking on Bane." He looked at Joker again. "Well, visiting hours are just about finished. I'll come back tomorrow".

Joker realized that he was actually disappointed by this. He smiled, hiding the sudden, surprising emotion. "Goodbye, TP".

The teenager spun around, and stiffly walked out without another word.

Over the next two weeks, Robin visited every single day. Eventually, Joker even relented and started to call TP by the name he had requested for Joker to call him. Robin would stay for an hour, and towards the end of the second week, began to stay until he was ushered out by guards. Joker began to enjoy these visits, and went so far to ensure that this visits continued, that he toned down his treatment of the guards.

Even Warden Zabot noticed this change in the feared criminal. The green-haired man had suddenly become kinder, a puppy compared to what he had been before. Eight years of every method of treatment to cure his insanity been a failure,actually resulting in Joker becoming even more demented during that time period. And here, a kid- barely into puberty- was doing what they could never manage.

She wondered what would happen if she introduced another element into play. Perhaps Joker would open up more in this time of weakness. Maybe, maybe not. She decided to wait a couple of days, then come to a decision.

Warden Zabot wasn't the only one who was watching the Joker and Jason. Dick Grayson was down in the Batcave, watching footage on the massive computer screen. Glowing letters and numbers running down the left side of the screen hid his actions from the security in Arkham. He had hacked into the security camera system inside of the madhouse with the help of his girlfriend, Barbara Gordon. He had watched every minute of interaction and conversation between the bird and the clown, and was worried. He heard footsteps behind him, and spun his big, black, curved chair to face the intruder. Although granted, this wasn't technically an intruder. The well-dressed older British gentleman looked at the man in the imposing chair, and then at the footage at the screen. "I see you're still watching the two, sir." He looked at Dick. "How do you think Master Todd would feel if he knew you were spying on him?"

Dick shrugged. "Honestly, Alf, I don't care. Bruce told me right before he… left, that the Joker was the greatest enemy he had ever faced. Even worse than Bane. And I'm worried. Jason thinks he's getting into Joker's head, and I think he's right. _But…_ he's been talking more than Joker has. I think Joker's playing him".

Alfred looked at the screen, where Joker was talking. The voice was the same as before, but the tone and pace was different. More like that of a normal person. "With all due respect, sir- What if you're wrong?" He sighed. "When Bruce first started his crusade, I watched him as much as I could. When he was out there, I was connecting to any camera that would allow me to see where he was. I couldn't see him most of the time, but as long as I knew where he was, I knew I could come and get him if anything went wrong".

Dick stared at him. He had never heard this before. "Eventually, I learned to trust his abilities. Trust that he knew what he was doing. And he did. He got hurt sometimes, but always knew his limits- even if he denied that he had any. Maybe you need to trust in Jason's abilities. Personally, I think he's doing well." He shrugged, and straightened his black suit.

The man in the chair closed his eyes and considered. Without realizing it, he grabbed one of his batons and started throwing it into the air and catching it. A habit that he had obtained years earlier. As the baton whipped into his opened hand, his eyes flew open. "Fine. We give him two days. Then he takes a break from this. I trust him. Not the Joker".


	12. Chapter 12: The Brave Man

Chapter 12: The Brave Man

AUTHOR'S NOTE: First off, what do you all think of the new poster for the story? I made it myself, hopefully it's as cool as I think it is. I've been slowing down on the story, I'm going to college, and that needs to be my focus. I'd like to say I will be able to post a new chapter every week, but I'm not sure I see that happening. I'd do my best though. Anyways, thanks for all of the views, although I really would like more reviews to see what I do well and what I can improve on.

EXTRA NOTE: Today's the two month anniversary of this story, and I just hit a thousand views today! Dear God, you guys are amazing. I'm so happy to be able to share this with you, it's a really awesome moment for me, especially considering how crappy this week has been. You guys just made my week! So here's an improved version of this chapter for you!

Joker opened his mouth and sighed. It was a large mouth- almost shark-like in its size. Without the makeup he used to wear, he didn't look so much a monster as a… war veteran. Yes, a young man who has come back to his small, small house after taking on the massive threat of a man who cloaked himself in shadow. I mean, really? Could these civilians not understand the threat of the Batman and his crew running around Gotham? Well, Batsy was gone, deader than a…. dead bat!

Joker yawned. A loud and annoying sound, intentionally so. The guard standing by the bars of the steel cell door jumped, his pointer finger twitching ever so slightly on the trigger of his mate-black AR-15 before he realized that there was no threat. "Jesus," the guard thundered out as he turned toward Joker, "Shut up, you freak".

Joker looked over the man. Overall, a typical guard, but- there was… _something_ different about this one. He was too muscular, if there was such a thing. And he hadn't seen this man before. His Caucasian chin was obstructed by a very well-trimmed beard. The black of it matched the color of the slight amount of hair that made it past the Arkham Security hat. Joker cocked his head in a manner that he hoped would intimidate this man. Nothing. Absoluely nothing. Not even a slight change in the dark pupils of his eyes. So he looked down the chestplate of the black fabric and kelvar suit supplied by Arkham Asylum, finally landing on the man's badge. "I've uhh always wondered something, Mr. Bober. Do they give everyone an outfit as nice as yours, or is that only for max security?'

The man drew himself fully upright, seeming to add another inch or two onto his height. Now standing taller than Joker, he looked down, his hazel eyes flittered over Joker in a brief moment. Then _he_ laughed. A deep, booming, happy sound of a man who had survived shit that should have killed him, and come out stronger than he had been. "I thought you were taller, Joker". His eyes shined with humor, and he began to pace, slowly but steady. "You're an old man now. Part of a bygone era." His voice started to laugh, "It's been, what? Almost nine years since Batman put you in here? And what have you done?"

Joker snarled, readying the vemon in his voice, "And what exactly…"

The man interrupted him. "You've killed a couple of guards, yes. But other than that? Nothing. Do people still fear you? Oh, yes. They do. But… there's nothing to fear anymore. You're just a man- with a few scars on his face".

Joker could feel the darkness he had shoved down because of Jason starting to rise up within him. And then he slumped. His back bent a bit, and his orange jumpsuit moved forward too, the flaps of the front swaying as his neck angled itself downwards, and his face snapped upwards in a familiar pose. Then the smile began to form. A sneer of hatred and insanity, the scars twisting upwards in a Glasgow grin. The smile warped past his normal Joker grin, stretching beyond what should even be possible. And in that instant, he realized that he had let himself go to waste in the darkness of his cold, hard cell. Looking up into the guard's eyes, he chuckled darkly. "You wanted the uhh Joker? Well, here. I. Am. And what a, glorious feeling it is." He laughed so evilly that he scared himself with it. "When I came to Gotham, you know what people called me? A freak in a _cheap, purple suit"._ Cocking his head again, he ran his tongue across as much of the scar on his left cheek as he could. "And I, weeell, I wore it like a badge. Kinda like yours." He ran his eyes to the shiny gold badge labeled ARKHAM SECURITY and then in smaller letters at the bottom, "C. Bober". It was without any scratches or scuffs, so new he could clearly see his own face in the reflection, brown eyes gleaming.

His head angled upwards as he looked deep into the man's eyes. " Who were you originally? I'll uhh tell you mine if you tell me yours." He laughed insanely, the fabric of his cheap, orange suit swaying with his body as it racked itself from the laughing. He watched the man grip his weapon tighter, and looked for the fear in his eyes. Still none. He was pissed. _This lowly nobody's standing up to me?! He's a dead man walking._ He stared for a couple of seconds at the guard's eyes, and seeing nothing, surrendered completely to whatever it was that was building up inside of him. He spoke softly at first, his voice rising suddenly to a scream. "Here's the thing. I will be free one day. And when I am, I will uhh find you. And I will kill you. I will _flay_ the FLESH FROM YOUR BODY AND FEED IT TO HYENAS! " And as quickly as he had raised his voice, it fell to a whisper. "You will die screaming, I promise you that."

And that was when he noticed that there was another person in the room besides for himself and Mr. Bober. Someone in the corner by the entrance, cloaked in shadows and darkness. Joker was speechless, shocked beyond what he thought he could be. Scared even. He shoved the darkness back down violently, but he knew it was too late. Even as he straightened his back, Robin stepped out from the corner he had been hidden in, his sharp blue eyes suddenly melting as tears threated to erupt. Panic overcame all other emotions, and the Joker that had been shoved away threatened to pop back up, whispering seductively to kill and maim the youngster. But the rational Joker was now in charge, and it protected Robin saying that he was their only way out of the hellhole. Joker knew it was more than that, but it seemed as good of a reason to not hurt the boy as there was. "Hi, kiddo?" Joker trailed off and smiled kindly, trying to hide the evil the teenager had seen.

The boy turned without a word, but not quickly enough to hide that he had begun to cry. He walked briskly out, leaving Joker with six words, "I thought maybe you had changed".


	13. Chapter 13: Harley Quinn

Chapter 13: Harley Quinn

AUTHOR's NOTE: Ok, I'm breaking tradition here, but the chapter title needed to be done. After this, back to The _ Man. Anyways, what did you guys think of last chapter's Joker? A glimpse of things to come…

Joker wanted to bang his head on the blasé grey concrete blocks that comprised three walls of his tiny world. He was infuriated with himself. He had slipped up, let the youth see him at his worst. Not that this wasn't the true person behind the facepaint, simply put, it was. But he had attempted to hide this part of himself so that the naïve youngster would believe that he was cured. Hopefully help him either be released or escape. But now, that was impossible. Dumb, dumb, DUMB.

In the end though, the wall simply wasn't tempting enough. His face was the best part of him, and messing it up by beating a wall with it seemed… pointless. He had checked and checked and checked. There were no faults in recesses between blocks, no cracks to take advantage of. No way to escape from the 10x10 square that had again become his existence. Maybe if there had been, he would have risked a reckless attack on the walls with his forehead, but… no, actually he wouldn't have.

He chuckled to himself, amused at the thoughts cycling through his mind. He gave the strongman outside of his cell one last angry glare, and then plopped down onto his metal bed. Grasping at the threadbare blanket that was the only bedding supplied to him (and probably all of those hated as much as he was by Gotham), he wrapped it around his hand. Then, without realizing what he was doing, he stood up and punched the hideous wall with all his might. As predicted, the wall won out.

Joker swore viciously; while the blanket had helped blunt the pain, there was far more than he had expected there to be. Quickly unwrapping his right hand, he tossed the blanket back on the bed, then looked down at his knuckles. Already the area between his second and third fingers was turning a dark pink, and starting to swell up. He had probably broken something. He had clearly grown weak during his time in Arkham Asylum.

He looked at the guard, who had watched the event unfold and now had a smirk on his face. His face showed sheer joy at the sight of the man inside being in pain. "You wanna get me a doctor?"

The security guard looked at Joker's hand with a glance of distain. "No, not really." He flashed a genuine grin at the caged man, his clear blue eyes sparking with laughter. "I _could_ fix it if I wanted to, but…" his voice trailing off. He turned quickly and suddenly Joker was looking at him back.

Joker growled, a noise from deep within his throat. His fists balled in fury, and a sharp pain jolted from his hand upwards. His growl turned to a grunt of pain, then morphed into a moan. Mr. Bober didn't even flinch. The only thing that he moved was his mouth, yet again. "Probably shouldn't move that hand much for a week at least, don'tcha think?"

Hatred burned deep within Joker for this man who was so close, and yet so far away from him. _If these bars weren't there_. But sadly, there was nothing he could do about this irritant who had sprung into his life. Absolutely nothing. So Joker laid down on the thin blanket, and attempted to ignore the guard by focusing on the pain. It was far less annoying.

Warden Zabot slammed her white coffee mug on the walnut desk so hard that it shattered. The last drops of dark brown coffee landed on a manila folder, while the mug itself scattered in every direction, the sharp black lettering that read "Arkham Asylum: A Safe Place for the Criminally Insane" became an instant jigsaw puzzle. She sighed. Maybe this was a sign. Lord knew, she had worked her butt off for this madhouse, and what had it given her in return? Headache after headache, visits from strange masked men in the middle of the night, and lunatics with murderous tendencies in her basement. Granted, the pay was quite good: what would have taken her four years to make at her old job took a year, but even that was not worth the pain. And here she had finally thought there had been a breakthrough. That they had fixed not any old psychopath, but probably the most famous in Gotham's history.

She looked at the man in front of her. He stood straight and proud, bravely taking on the storm he knew had arrived with the warden's rage. She took a couple of deep breaths, trying to calm herself down. It didn't work. "So you're telling me, what? He played us?" She felt anger bubbling up. "We've got some of the best psychologists in the States, and they couldn't figure this guy out? HOW THE **HELL** DID THIS HAPPEN!"

The white-coated man flinched slightly, but did in fact weather the blast. Arguably though, his face spoke a different story. His mouth quivered slightly, a nervous tick that he hadn't been able to hide. There were also a couple short beads of sweat that were trickling down the man's neck. And when he started to speak, his normally clear, concise voice stuttered. "Uhh, no. Na..not necessarily. We, well, we think umm that maybe Joker _was_ beginning to umm… regain sa-sanity. It, it, well it's possible that this was merely a lapse in behavior. I, well, we suggest keeping him completely alone with the exception of that guard that enraged him. Maybe for two months. See if he continues having these… outbursts. If he doesn't, then it's possible we are curing him".

THREE MONTHS LATER

Warden Zabot was staring at another mailla folder today, this one with far better news than that from three months previous. "Harleen Quinzel. Straight from Elliot University with top marks from all of your professors." Her eyes ran down the skinny blond in front of her. "Impressive. So, it says you want to work with the worst of the worst, trying to help them through counseling. Is this correct?"

The young woman looked at the warden with piercing blue eyes. "Umm, yeah." Her voice was slightly irritating, but everyone has faults.

"You're from Brooklyn, I assume?" Warden Zobat took a guess from the accent that was dripping from the young lady's mouth.

"Shu am!" She smiled, "Boun an raised!" She flicked her long blond hair back.

Zabot wasn't sure that this was the girl for the job. Despite the impressive internships with other psychological institutes, there was something that didn't seem to fit what she wanted. Yes, she was pretty- any sensible man would want her. But she was dealing with an insane lunatic. Who know what Joker would like. She sure as hell didn't. She considered for a moment. "Harleen, this job will require you to spend time with some of Gotham's most dangerous criminals. Is that something that you think you can manage?"

"Yes, ma'am. I studied some of the greatest villains in Gotham's history at school! Umm, Warden?" She looked down at her shiny high heels. Zabot made a noise in the back of her throat, prompting the girl to continue. She looked back up, shyly. "Who am I gonna to be lookin' after?"

Warden Zabot sighed, and stood up. She realized that she had to look up to meet the woman's eyes. _She's taller than she seems, 5'10, maybe?_ She considered the risks of telling the woman who she would be analyzing, then realized that it didn't matter. "Well, _if_ you get the job, you would be studying the Joker". She expected the woman to seem nervous with such a large task, but the only reaction was a smile, and a quick sparkle in her eye. It gone so quickly that if the warden hadn't been very good at reading people, she wouldn't have known for sure it had been there. But, what harm was there? This was a girl barely out of her teenage years. There wasn't all that much this twig of a girl could do.

"Well, I have a couple of other applicants for the job, I'll call you back within three days to let you know if you got the job."

She held out her hand, and the pale woman took it and gave a surprisingly strong handshake.

"Thank you for your time, Ms. Zabot." Harleen flashed a smile that would have blinded the sun, turned and left.

FIVE DAYS LATER

Joker was bored. He couldn't believe it, but he missed that stupid guard who taunted him. "C" Bober hadn't been there for a couple of days, and Joker had no one to battle wits with. Granted, he would give the armored man hell when he came back, but dang it, he was sooo lonely. He had been spoiled by Robin.

He heard the metal clang as the door to his wing of the place opened, and looked anxiously, wondering if perhaps Robin had decided to come back. _No, probably just the guard_. He heard loud clicking as someone walked on the concrete floor with _high heels?_ Well, if that was the case, it sure wasn't Robin or Mr. Bober. Unless they had issues they hadn't told him about. He snickered, then started to laugh. The laugh however was broken into a gasp as a mane of golden hair came into his eyesight.

"Hannah?"

END ACT 1 

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Holy crap! Was this fun to write. And finally, act one is finished. Wanted to say thanks, never in my wildest dreams would I have expected this story to do so well! Thank you everyone who's read it so far, it truly puts a uhh _smile_ on my face.


	14. Chapter 14: The Wounded Man

Act 2

Chapter 14: The Wounded Man

You know that itch on your back that you can't scratch no matter how hard you try? How it stays there all day, reminding you of its existence when you least expect it? Now take that itch, and imagine this: What if that itch was not an itch at all, but a deep, throbbing pain? And instead of being just on your back, it was also cauterized on your chest, and throughout the inside of your body? So that your whole lower torso itched, hurt, and burned all at the same exact time. And like before, you couldn't scratch it. Although granted, part of the reason you couldn't scratch it was because your arms were bound by straps made from a material you guessed was leather. Like the type you would expect at a mental institute.

In all fairness, you could probably break these bonds, if it weren't for one tiny, little fact. That your arms screamed in pain each and every time you attempt to move them. And there are tubes in your body, feeding and nourishing you so you stay alive. You have nothing to do. The room is blank, an nearly empty black slate which you know will never see the light of day. After all, it hasn't since you woke up here, probably two months ago.

And here's the annoying part, you know that you were conscious before this, you remember being inside some sort of van. A dark place, but it had a couple of spots where a bit of light shone through. And you were moving, you know that much. Then, a soft pain, and nothing for a long time. Just endless sleep. A sleep as black and empty as the room you're in now.

Really, there was no change between that sleep and the room you're now in. The only difference is that your eyes are open. And what does that matter? If there was even the tiniest bit of light in the room, your eyes would become very useful. You remember bragging that you could see well in the dark. Better than nearly everyone else. But without any light whatsoever, your eyes- as good as they may be- are completely useless.

So you give up the pointless quest for light and relax as much as you possibly can while bound. You close your eyes, and just like every other day, bits of images stream through your mind. A tan landscape, nothing except mountains and mountains of sand. This is always the first image, and you have come to recognize this as a desert. A vile, hopeless place. You don't know why your brain makes this association, but you accept it nonetheless. You hear a chattering sound, so loud it encompasses all. And when that finally fades, you see piles of rubble. And a deep, rich red. Red covers the other colors, soaking and coating the greys and tans and duller reds of that rubble. And then that vanishes into a black shape with some bright green and red on it. The black morphs into a shadow, and you are fighting this shadow with a fury and rage that you wouldn't imagine being capable of possessing. It's suddenly replaced with something both dark and bright, and then you're brought back to that fight. You see the background, w… and then that's gone too. A face appears, not yours, and you know it is precious. This is a certainty, one of only a few things you know for sure. Other images and sounds come to mind quicker and faster than you can possibly process. Some things pop up more often then others, a wall comprised of chunks of rock, some voices you know you should recognize, but don't, and a stream that is running lazily downhill. But always the final thing is the same. A smooth voice roars at you in anger. Your eyes fly open, and you sigh in disappointment. Nothing new.

Days go by like this, the sameness of it almost a mockery to you. As the time spent here increases, your frustration seems to seep into the air, thick and palatable. Then that frustration turns to anger when, after another fifteen sleep cycles, nothing changes. And you start to wonder. Asking yourself if this is what you are to be subjected to forever. If this is punishment for whatever crimes you committed in the past. Thinking that perhaps you even deserved it, then wondering if the images you see when you close your eyes hold the truths you are looking for. A crazy desire rushes over you. A need to rip open your head with your hands and sort through your mind. To take these puzzle pieces (what's a puzzle?) and assemble them by force if need be. There is a surety that you can do this, despite knowing otherwise in the back of your mind. But that isn't even the strongest desire. There is one that is far greater. It surges into your mind at the most unexpected moments and tosses every other single, solitary thought aside like the strongest wind. _I need to see the light._ That one, single, idea is so overpowering and important that there is a physical ache for it inside you.

And finally, there is hopelessness. You know that you are never getting free. That this is your end, your eternal prison. No one is coming to save you. You have known this from the day you woke up in this place, but you buried it down deep. It's back though, and you finally surrender to it. It is over.

And then everything changes. Not in any way that you expect, but it all changes nonetheless. In your despair, something clicks. The face is that of a woman you love! And she needs you. You promised her you would always look after her and keep her safe, but obviously you are failing at this task. And you need to change this. You need to get back to her, because she is all that matters. You close your eyes and see her face with far more clarity than ever before. Brown hair curls down her head and glides onto her shoulders gently and gracefully, blue-grey eyes glazing at you with affection. A radiant smile curves effortlessly onto her perfect face, revealing perfectly straight teeth that are as white as the dress you want her to wear for you some day. And suddenly, for the first time since as far back as you can fully remember, that itching pain you cannot scratch vanishes. Then the floodgates open, and you see her as a scared little girl, surrounded by people who want to do unspeakable things to her. You remember the look of hurt and loss on her tiny face after her mother was raped and killed. You had covered her eyes and ears, but her mother's screams were far too loud to not be heard. You were surprised that the whole world had not heard and come to her rescue. You remember your struggles to convince the other inmates that this child was a thing to value and treasure. You remember pride as you watch her climb without even the safety of the rope, seeing her make the jump to the ledge where no one else had stood right before the mob of prisoners beat you senseless. And then her father -a proud young warrior- rescuing you from death. But you knew even then that it had been too late for you to be fixed. The man tried his best, but in the end, all he could do was dull the pain so that it became manageable. And even that kindness had consequence, you were forced to wear a skullish mask for the rest of your life. And suddenly, that flash of something both dark and bright makes complete sense, and with that comes the most important realization. With great difficulty, you force your mouth and tongue to move. The sound that came out is barely a whisper, dry and rough from not speaking for so long. And without the mask it sounds different, less… fearsome. But it is your voice, and the statement it carries is far more important than how you say it.

"My name is Bane."

And as if those simple four words were some sort of secret code, a rectangular hole of light suddenly appears in the wall in front of you. This unexpected appearance of what you have longed for makes you shut your eyes for fear of going blind, and you do not see the silhouette of a bald man standing in the doorway.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Wow, this chapter was fun to write. I had been wanting to put Bane into my story for probably almost a month, and I had been waiting to do this chapter with eager anticipation. I hadn't imagined that I would end up doing this chapter in first person; I suck at it. I am begging you, PLEASE REVIEW. I really want to know how this chapter turned out.


	15. Chapter 15: The Hurting Man

Chapter 15: The Hurting Man

AUTHOR'S NOTE: First off, thank you all so much for the 100 view day on Saturday. You guys and gals left me speechless. We're going back to an old friend with this chapter. So in other words, welcome back to the madness!

"Hannah?"

The gust of blond hair took him back, far back. And suddenly he was, in his mind, inside that black van weeping for his dead friend.

For a minute, all Jack could do was focus on his heartbeat. It was fast, quicker than he had ever felt it go before. Between the running he had just done, the panic from encountering Batman, and the simple adrenaline coursing through his body, Jack's heart was beating so fast that he wondered for a second if it might explode.

So he breathed. Breathe after long breathe, as teardrops mingled with his blood and fell freely from his face, he worked to regain control of his racing heart.

Once this task was done, Jack looked up at Jacob, and realized that the man wasn't where he had been. He was instead scavenging through a pile of stuff at the back of the van. Jack raised a hand which clutched the red bandana, and brushed the material across his sharp-featured face to clear the tears that remained. He opened his mouth to speak, but now that the adrenaline has stopped, his mind had decided to remember the pain that was bursting from the side of his mouth. He gasped in agony at the firework that had gone off on his face.

Jacob turned to him with a look of concern. "Don't speak anymore. You'll risk going into shock it you do." He then turned back to the pile. "Jeff, where is the medical kit, and why the hell aren't we moving?"

"A gruff, deep voice came from the driver's seat, or so Jack assumed. He was in far too much pain to keep track of minor details like who was speaking. "Second drawer on the left side. My left, your right. And because the GCPD may consider a big, black van speeding away from the scene of a heist just a tiny bit suspicious. I'm gonna give it a couple more minutes".

"No, we need to go now!" There was panic in that voice. "The GCPD is nothing compared to our employers".

Jack again tried to interrupt, but all he could do was issue a soft groan. He closed his eyes in pain, and when he opened them again, Jacob was standing over him with a kit. "I'm going to stitch" the rest of his words were obstructed by the sound of the engine revving, and then the car began to move.

Jacob moved his hand closer to the origin of the pain, and suddenly Jack felt a sharp, piercing pain of a needle being driven through his skin. He decided to surrender to the pain, and fell into happy, blissful unconsciousness.

When Jack woke up, he didn't know how much time had passed, or where they now were. All he knew was that A: they were still moving, and B: his mouth was no longer causing him pain. Well, the second part wasn't completely true, but the pain had decreased significantly. Jacob was sitting on the opposing side of the van, the shiny-chrome brick that was his computer lay unopened in his lap.

Jack opened his mouth, testing to see if he could now speak properly. "You said you know who employed us?" He ran his tongue over the stitched wound, feeling the grooved and bumpy texture of it. It was odd, different and yet familiar, as if this wound was something he was always supposed to have. Which was insane, of course. But still, it felt… right.

Tongue still flickering over the inside of his mouth, he looked at the hacker sitting across from him. Jacob wringed his hands together, clearly feeling guilty about giving up confidential information, despite what he said before. Jack watched the long fingers twist and turn for a few moments, then realized that the man was not going to give him the answers he wanted without prompting.

"You know that we have to go after these people, don't you? You said they corrupted your program".

"No, not corrupted- it still works. Just sabotaged it enough to cause problems". He opened up the large brick-like laptop, and his eyes flicked over the screen as his fingers flew over the keyboard faster than Jack had ever seen someone type. The clicking noise of typing stopped, "I'm pretty sure I isolated the problem." There was silence for a short time as Jacob read whatever was on screen. "Yep, this isn't part of the original program. Clever algorithm though, I'll admit that. Argus must have some very good programmers in their employ".

"Is that what they're called?"

"Yeah. ARGUS. They're a government group that practically no one knows about. Top echelon, I'm doubtful even the president knows that the group exists".

"Then how exactly do you know about this group… ARGUS?"

Jacob grinned widely with humor. "For a top-secret government group, they made a really stupid mistake. Originally, I was hired by a corporation called O'Brien Technologies. But when I did some investigating, I found a backdoor hidden where one shouldn't exist. I delved into it, of course, and quickly I realized that O'Brien Technologies was just a face for another group. At first, I was worried- perhaps I was working for a terrorist organization, or something else just as bad. And in a way, ARGUS is."

Jack was silent for a few seconds. This was supposed to be his moment of glory; he and Bob the victorious thieves who were walking away with more money than either of them knew what to do with. Instead, he had nearly been killed by Batman, Bob was dead, and the money?

"So what are the chances that I'll get my money?"

Jacob shook his head. Jack sighed, then reached into his pocket. He felt around, and grasped a small cylinder. Bringing it out of his pocket, he looked at it. "AC-346-JR. I wonder why ARGUS wanted it".

He looked the green glowing liquid inside of it, so similar to the chemical that Bob fell into. He shook the vial, fascinated with it. The chemical inside produced a surprisingly large quantity of tiny, green bubbles. Jack glazed into the bubbles as they continued to amass inside the tube, then quickly popped. He shook it again, the action hypnotizing him.

"Jack!" The voice drew him back from the neon liquid and into reality. He looked up. "Hey, man. You've been staring at that stuff for the last five minutes. Are you ok?"

"Yeah, of course I'm ok. My best friend just died, I'm not going to get paid for this," he shook the test tube in anger, "and it turns out the goddamn Batman is real! I'm totally fine. Never better!" He started to laugh at the absurdity of the whole thing. "If I didn't know any better, hahahaha, I'd say this was all a dream!" He laughed harder, his throat hurting as now the laughter can from deep within him uncontrollable and unceasingly.

Jacob looked at him, concern clearly showing on his features. "Look, take a couple of deep breaths. You need to calm down. We're what?" Then repeated what the driver replied with, "Six minutes from your house, and I need you to call anyone else in there, tell them to get into their car, and wait for us".

Jack could feel his heart starting to race again. "Why? Why would I have to call Hannah and tell her that?"

"Because of ARGUS. By this point, they're probably figuring out where you live. Hell, they may even be trying to track the van, but we did our absolute best to hide ourselves while you were out".

"What? How the hell can they do that?" Jack felt panic surging into him and coursing through his veins.

"I'll explain later. Right now, _you need to call Hannah_."

Jack reached into his pants pocket and took out his phone. Flipping the top open, he dialed their landline number. She answered almost instantly, her smooth, lovely voice calming him the moment he heard it.

"Jack? What's happening? The news is saying that the place you're working at had an armed robbery. Are you ok?"

He sighed, this was great, just great. "Yeah, I'm ok. Listen, honey. I need you to pack as much as you can into a suitcase within five minutes, and get into the car".

"Jack, what's wrong?" It was clear that she was getting even more worried.

"I'll explain later, ok? Just do what I told you to do, and be ready to leave when we pull up." He paused, trying to remember if he had missed anything. "Oh, and we're in a black van." Jacob signaled for him to wrap up the call. "I've got to go, love you. Bye". He heard Hannah tell him she loved him, and then ended the call. Flipping the cover of the phone back into its normal position, he started to put it back into his pocket. Jacob practically leapt across the van, his long, skinny legs showing a surprising amount of power as he grabbed Jack's phone before he could fully slid it into his pants pocket. He threw it on the floor, and as Jack watched, stomped on it with his black New Balance shoes. When the sole lifted away, Jack could see that the phone was damaged, yes, but still probably working. Jacob fixed that in short order as he flipped it open and viciously tore the top half from the rest of the machine as Jack watched in shock.

Jack could feel his face going through a number of contortions. Originally, he had been surprised, but curious. He had assumed that Jacob was about to put his programming skills to use and do something impressive with the phone. A wave of outrage as the professional-looking instrument was put underfoot and attacked. And of course, there was the shock when the phone was finally destroyed. As quickly as one emotion had replaced the previous, he felt another one overcoming all the rest. Anger. Rage as red as the smile Bob's face had been frozen into. He flew over to the other side of the van, and Jacob managed to react quickly enough to dodge to the left. Or try to, at least. The problem for him was that the space they were in was quite small. When he attempted to dodge, Jack turned slightly to the left, and caught the brown-haired man by the shoulders and pinned him to the metal wall.

"What the hell?! You know how expensive that was? I had Bob's mother's number on there. How am I going to tell her that her son is dead?"

Jacob began coughing, and his breath sounded like it was being forced in. Jack glanced down, and realized that his hands had shifted up onto Jacob's neck and his fingers were digging into his associate's neck while also attempting to strangle him. He immediately forced his fingers to release the man, knowing that Jacob was the only link to ARGUS- unless the driver knew about the agency.

Jacob fell to his knees, red bruising in the pattern of a hand already forming on his long neck. He brushed off his red plaid shirt and straightened his glasses. He then looked at Jack, a gleam of anger in his grey eyes. "I'm sorry, but I had to do that. ARGUS can trace the locations of phones within a couple of minutes unless the phone is destroyed." As Jack started to object to the unrealistic conspiracy theory, Jacob interrupted. "I know that it sounds insane, the type of technology that's only real in science fiction films, but this group has advances that the public won't even know _exist_ for at least five years".

Jack looked out of the small window at the back, and seeing familiar houses and landmarks passing down the road to either side of him, felt beads of sweat start to spontaneously run down his face. He realized he was scared. There was no way in Hell that Hannah would not press both of them until they told her exactly what had transpired at the deadly chemical factory. Before he could even run all of his thoughts through his brain, the vehicle he was in pulled to a stop, and parked. He rushed to the front of the van, and watched as a wave of blond hair flew from the closed and locked door to the old, red Honda in the short driveway. Jack smiled fondly at both his fiancée and the slightly rusty vehicle he owned. He watched as Hannah put the keys in the ignition, and then was engulfed in flames as the car exploded.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Holy crap! How's for a chapter? Over 2,150 words, and five pages. Granted, it's not the 24 page space story I wrote for creative writing a few years back, but like that story, this chapter kinda wrote itself. I think we're looking at one more chapter for this origin story, but if you want more than that, let me know.


	16. Chapter 16: The Hurt Man

Chapter 16: The Hurt Man

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hello, ladies and gentlebats! I'm back! I'm sorry it took so darn long to give you another chapter, I was losing motivation without seeing any reviews. (Please, even if it's a hi, it lets me know you're reading my work and encourages me to continue) Also, I wanted to get some more material from Jared Leto's Joker to get a better idea of what this Joker will be. The new Suicide Squad trailer helped a bit, and was just freaking amazing. We're getting closer to the transformation chapter, probably another 5 chapters, but could be more if I decide to put a Battle for the Cowl type event in the story. Let me know if that's something you'd like to see, and if so who should be included.

"Hannah?" The soft stunned voice floated through the stagnant air towards the familiar wave of blond hair. Jack's heart leapt up into his throat, there was no way that this was possible, and yet he knew that he would never forget that shade of gold, or the way it shined in the light. He waited in eager anticipation for the face to reveal itself, remembering the soft and loving smile she always had, the lilt of her voice, and felt his stomach flutter slightly. Jack realized with sudden surprise that it had been a long time since he had felt such strong emotion- Joker had sucked any true joy from him, leaving only a shell cackling madly in the breeze. The creature that had emerged from the flames of his precious life may have laughed constantly, but there was nothing he had been truly happy about. The blonde hair gave him hope, maybe together Hannah and he could restart, create a new life without a trace of the maniac known as the Joker.

And just as quickly, that hope was taken from him. Sorrow threatened to engulf him as a round face appeared instead of the heart-shaped one he had hoped to see. _It was a stupid thought that Hannah would still be alive. You saw her blow to smithereens._ Joker taunted him cruelly, and quickly re-asserted his dominance over Jack. His face curled into a bitter, angry smile, and he sneered at the woman who strolled towards him. Like him, she was smiling, but hers was a genuine, happy grin that made Joker want to rip the bars of his prison apart and beat her with them until her pretty smile was upside-down.

She looked at him, cocking her head ever-so-slightly to her right. The pale skin of her neck shined as the florescent lights gleamed off it, and Joker wanted nothing more than to wrap his hands around it and squeeze. Squeeze until her smile grew still, her lips became blue, and the rest of her skin was cold and clammy. He'd done it before, many, many times. He could see it happening in his mind, so simple, and so, so easy.

"Who's Hannah?" The sharp, nasally tone rudely interrupted his thought, and he tried his hardest to wish the bars away. No luck. He then realized what this girl had asked him, and he regretted the words he had spoken. In any other building, words spoken that quietly would have been enveloped by the silence and no one would have heard him. But the architecture of his kingdom was such that any word said in his cell was amplified and heard by anyone in the area outside of his cell in the area. So not only had this girl heard the words he had said, but already knew more about him than anyone except maybe TP, and all because of one softly spoken word.

"Well, at least only you heard that, whoever you are." he sneered viciously at the girl, attempting to frighten her. She stood still, staring at him with light-blue eyes, refusing to be cowed by the man in front of her. And then Joker heard something he didn't like as all. The clicking of high-heels on concrete. It had become one of his least favorite sounds over the last nine years, and knowing what it meant, he opened his mouth to beat the wearer of the shoes to the punchline she was bound to say.

But he wasn't fast enough. "Actually, I heard it too. Just thought you'd like to know". Warden Zabot walked up to the cell door, strutting as if she owned the place. _Well, actually…_

"Welcome to my kingdom, your royal highness". Joker bowed impossibly low to the ground, so far down that his stringy brown hair nearly touched the dirty cement. "I would offer you food and drink, but unless you like stale bread and toilet water…" He trailed off, ending with a click of his tongue. The blonde-haired girl giggled, the sound sweet to his ears as the screams of victims while being tortured. He paused for a moment, surprised and upset that she had such a nice laugh. "Oh, and this… thing," he pointed at the girl. "I'm sure you can find some _use_ for her".

The warden smiled at him, her toothy grin dishonest and disingenuous. "Oh, I've already come up with a use for her. She's to be your psychologist".

Joker looked over the girl again, noting that she was actually rather beautiful. Or at least she could be if she used a bit of makeup. Maybe, just maybe she could be useful. He looked at her in the eyes, and forced all the scorn and mockery away before speaking. "What's your name… girl?"

She again flashed that happy-to-be-alive look at him, and replied with cheerfulness in her voice. "It's Harleen Quinzel".

Joker clapped his hands together excitedly, very excited over seemingly nothing. "Hmmm, with a bit of shortening, it becomes ahhh… Harlequin".

The girl laughed loudly, throwing her head back as she did, which in turn made her golden hair move like a smooth wave. The whole cell echoed with her peals of laughter, growing louder and louder as she laughed harder. Joker noticed that 'Harley Quin' had dimples, which emphasized and framed large, yet dainty lips. Those were a pure shade of pink, maybe she was wearing some makeup after all.

With a surprising suddenness, the girl stopped laughing. She turned her head to look at Warden Zabot as the final echoing notes of laughter dulled to a stop. The large smile wavered, then broke into a frown. "Warden? You don't find it funny? A harlequin. Like a court jester, or joker". There seemed to be a slight anger or frustration in her sharp voice, and Joker grinned widely.

"I get the joke, I just don't find it funny. That… freak doesn't get the right to make me laugh after the horrible things he's done." There was no mistaking the threat in the older woman's voice.

Before 'Harley Quin' could say or do anything that would get her into any more trouble with the upset woman beside her, Joker jumped in. "And that, idiot," this was said with scorn, "is the first rule of comedy." He lowered his voice to a near whisper and saw the girl bend slightly toward him, desperately trying to hear every syllable he spoke. "If you have to explain the joke, then there is no joke!" His voice grew louder at the end, and there was a fury in it that surprised even him. 'Harley Quin' jumped backwards, surprised by the sudden outburst.

"I, I don't wanna do this anymore." The girl's voice grew thin and trembled. Zabot pat her on the back, feeling bad for the newbie, just as Joker hoped she would.

"Don't worry, he'll still be here tomorrow". She steered the young doctor toward the exit.

"Don't be,ahh too sure about that, love." Joker's cackling grew to a clamor that overtook every sound in the madhouse.


End file.
